< Chapter 3 >

The commonality between a school dropout and a corporate dropout might be the intense catharsis they experience in a short span of time.

I knew it wouldn't last long, but I did my best to enjoy the fleeting freedom.

Going to the Han River and casually enjoying the subtle sunlight of early autumn while ordering delivery food, or if I felt sluggish, renting a bicycle and cycling along the Han River.

Even when the sky, which should have been a crisp autumn blue, turned yellowish due to fine dust, I kept moving without rest. I drove my body forward with a single determination: to experience everything I had missed out on.

Next is over there, then over there, even though I'm already on the brink of my thirties, I roamed around as if I had gone back to being a freshman in college in my early twenties.

Entering a coin karaoke room and belting out songs that were never meant to be sung solo was a given, and I had already gone to a manga café that was halfway out of trend, where I devoured jajangmyeon while catching up on my backlog of comics.

And with time to spare, I was already heading to the pub before the office workers even left work.

I'm thinking of having an early dinner with some crispy fried chicken, which is a specialty with its tender, juicy meat, and washing it down with a cold draft beer. Then, I plan to watch a sports broadcast on the TV hanging on the wall of the pub, and wash away the weariness of the day.

When entertaining slightly heavy drinkers, it's not uncommon to end up hopping from the second to the third round, and eventually catching the last train at a pub or a street food stall.

Although my preference is to drink moderately, when entertaining, I would join in the intoxication of the heavy drinkers with professionalism, perseverance, and a bit of cunning.

Thanks to that, the owner of the pub, who was an acquaintance of mine, didn't give me a hard time for showing up early in the evening.

He looked at me, not dressed in my usual suit, not walking in with someone, and asked, as if it were strange.

"Han, why are you alone today? Judging by your appearance, did you get some time off?"

"I quit my job. I'm afraid I won't be able to increase sales here anymore."

"Hey, when have I ever discriminated between customers who boost sales and those who don't? After all, it's just a neighborhood business, not something big. But why did you suddenly quit your job that you were doing well in?"

"There are people who save the company and people who kill it, but it just so happens that the ones who kill it are the ones in charge."

"Tsk tsk, that's why you can't have a dumb boss. Having someone like Han as a subordinate makes things so much easier, yet they don't even realize that..."

"Even if you send me off on a plane, I won't work part-time here."

 "Caught red-handed!"

At my joking response, the tavern owner guffawed and slapped his own forehead.

He may look like an ordinary, shabby neighborhood uncle at first glance, but in fact, he is a remarkable man who used to be a former hotel chef.

He couldn't stand the culture of belittlement and absurdity that prevailed in the kitchen, and after ramming into the head chef, he was blacklisted in the industry. So, instead of giving up on becoming a master chef, he opened a pub, leveraging his own know-how, or so the story goes.

Thanks to that, there are quite a few customers who come to enjoy the fantastic chicken and various side dishes he makes, along with drinks.

I was also well aware of the rumors about this place, so I often used it as a rendezvous spot.

 "That's always the one you used to do, right?"

"This time I came alone, so just half a fish. And give me a shot of soju, tightly packed, one 500ml."

That damn tightness, anyway. Just forget about it until it's ready.

The plate of leftovers he had carelessly brought was placed in front of me

They poured their heart and soul into developing side dishes to whet the appetite, ensuring that guests would inevitably order drinks, and it turned out they were right.

A faint hint of a secret seasoning with a slight saltiness was sprinkled on the surface of the small peanuts coated in sweet caramel. Koreans, who are obsessed with the sweet and salty combination, would be completely hooked after tasting this.

Beside the peanuts lay a biscuit that, while lacking in flavor and aroma, had perfectly captured a satisfying texture, and scattered around it were small pieces of jerky, decorating the surroundings.

This dried beef jerky, which I made myself after setting up a workshop, is highly praised among customers. Indeed, those who have professionally learned something can create something remarkable even from the smallest things.

If my life was made by someone else's hand, that person must not have learned the professional art of life creation.

 "Alright, some seasoned chicken and fresh beer."

"I've always wondered, are you not planning to change that menu name?"

 What is Zzajang Mayo, Zzajang Mayo.

"With the crispy fried chicken drizzled with our special mayonnaise sauce, it's definitely zzazamayo chicken!"

 "At least say it's Soltima Chicken!"

As expected of Uncle, his naming sense is something else.

Despite my grumbling, I quickly speared a piece of the steaming chicken with my fork. The freshly fried boneless chicken first invaded my mouth, followed by the crisp pickled radish.

As I poured the cool draft beer into my mouth, which was coated with oil, I felt a dizziness that made me unconsciously tighten the muscles in my lower body.

Sometimes, when monotony set in, I would place the tender meat of a chicken and mayonnaise sauce on a biscuit, and swallow it in one bite like a canapé.

"Where have you been starving for three days? You're eating so greedily."

"I'm the type who deals with stress by eating and sleeping."

There was nothing in life other than eating and sleeping to one's heart's content.

You held up well today, let's hold up well tomorrow too. For now, let's just eat, drink, and sleep!

Even after going to the mental hospital, I couldn't break the bad habits that had persisted for three years, so now it just feels normal.

Those damn bastards. They're really out to get me. Did you strike out over there?

"You're not just a Hanwha fan for a day or two, are you?"

"I wish they could have won at least for the fans who have been supporting them for more than just a day or two."

Even as he says that, he is busy attending to the influx of customers, eyeing the approaching evening hours.

The place has a lot of loyal customers who sell well, even for a neighborhood pub, so by this time, the seats start filling up in earnest. I'm thinking of getting up to make room for the next guest after eating and drinking moderately.

At that moment, a group of men entered the tavern, roughly pushing the door open. The bell hanging above the door clanged noisily, causing the patrons' faces to involuntarily contort in annoyance.

But the men, as if questioning what the problem was, frowned and took their seats around the largest six-person table. There were only four of them.

Hey, boss. Two of your best-selling dishes and four glasses of fresh beer.

"...What are you doing in someone else's store now?"

As if to confirm that he was the one who had charged into the formidable hotel kitchen and hit the sous-chef, the boss rushed out, leaving the chicken frying.

The men looked like they had lived off rice balls somewhere. To put it nicely, they looked like employees of a security company, and to put it harshly, they looked like gangsters.

As expected, as soon as the boss's sensitive reaction was desired, the men frowned and roared.

Is this the right place to fucking do business? Where else can you find a boss who treats customers like this? If a customer comes, you should run over immediately to take their order and bring out the food!

"Do you think it's that easy to just take someone else's money, you bastard? A person needs to have a conscience!"

"No, but is this guy deaf? He ordered two popular dishes and four glasses of draft beer!!"

"Tsk tsk, with the boss's character like this, I can already tell what the food will be like without even looking. What are you still standing there for? If you want to make even a penny, you should hurry up and serve the customers!"

It was a very blatant and tiresomely clichéd act of sabotage.

I can't believe there are still people brazenly engaging in commercial interference in a manner that seems straight out of a movie or drama that's behind the times.

In the past, even if thugs would suddenly take over a store and disrupt business, it was always the owners who suffered the damage. But now, the law has changed, and if you actively report it, the police will handle it.

But the boss was trembling, his fists clenched, without calling the police. Just as I always had.

That's not about to erupt in anger; it's about holding back anger forcefully.

"No, fuck, did we ever break any of the stuff here? Or did we turn away any customers? Let's just have a few beers with that fancy chicken, too!"

"Just because I yelled a bit, you're going to accuse me of disrupting business or what? Wouldn't that mean everyone who talks loudly in a restaurant would get arrested? Surely you're not reporting me for that, are you? Hehehe!"

"If you want to come out like a man and have a physical conversation, I won't stop you, but that's not what we're looking for."

"Right. I'm just a guest here, and if I suddenly make a scene, it's only the boss who'll be at a disadvantage, won't it?"

The prologue was so bad that I thought the business interference episodes were all over the place, but they turned out to be quite the fighters.

The teasing behavior, the subtly provoking tone, and the meticulousness that doesn't quite cross the line of the law. Even if you call the police, it would just end with a simple warning.

"Even if the law is revised, the state of the world remains fucked up."

Just as the chicken was almost finished, I wanted to go home and enjoy the relaxed feeling again, so I stood up from my seat. The boss wouldn't try to kill me just for running a tab once, would he?

He picked up an empty, thick and sturdy beer glass and strode towards the entrance.

He then roughly struck the back of a passerby's head and, kicking the chest of another rising from the opposite side, knocked him down.

And he dashed out of the store and ran like mad down that road.

At least I tied up their feet, so only two of them will come after me.

 "Hey, you son of a bitch!"

"Just stand there, you fucking bastard!"

 "You're screwed if you get caught, seriously!"

"Catch that bastard! Catch him and kill him!!"

It seems that the world doesn't turn as easily as I thought it would.

I thought the surprise attack had worked, but unexpectedly, all four of them burst out of the store and started chasing me.

I couldn't go home in this state, so I started circling the streets. I desperately evaded pursuit by slipping into narrow alleys or scaling walls as high as my head.

But in the end, he was caught, due to the fundamental difference in physical strength from the burly men.

"This dog-damn-shit! I told you I'd die if I got caught, didn't I?!"

As he gasped for breath, the muscular man who had grabbed me suddenly threw a punch out of nowhere.

Thanks to my experience in fighting during my school days, I managed to dodge instinctively, but I was kicked and sent flying by another burly guy who followed up.

And what followed was an indiscriminate beating by the thugs. It was a one-sided violence, inflicted without any chance to dodge or block.

 "Die, you bastard!"

"Why is this crazy bastard hitting an innocent person's head and acting like a maniac?!"

"I've turned you into a complete mess! It's self-defense anyway!"

"What makes you think you can act tough, you insignificant piece of shit?!"

 Not even worth a shit.

 Motherless child.

A brat who had a temper tantrum disorder since childhood and always caused trouble.

That bastard, who had to become a sucker of a social being because of that damn label of being an orphan and the status of a bottom-feeder life.

The son of a bitch who couldn't even throw a single punch when the perennial section chief spewed curses right in my face, and just came out after exchanging words.

Thinking he was something special, he threw the first punch at a customer in someone else's business, and now he's getting beaten like a dog. What an idiot.

 ...Giggle.

The strange laughter that rang out smartly amidst the curses and beatings was unmistakably mocking laughter directed at me.

How long are you going to keep living like that?

Did you act tough believing in your minor status when you were young, only to suddenly become a coward when you grew up?

Are you just going to clench your fists every time those bastards curse your parents, who disappeared into the sky or extinguished into the earth, without a trace?

So you think you're something, huh? You're going to live your whole life pathetically, convincing yourself that I'm watching over you?

Isn't it better for the world if you, such a loser, just hurry up and commit suicide? Ha ha ha!

Yeah, the answer for a piece of shit like me is to commit suicide quickly. But before I do, it's okay to take these bastards with me, right?

 "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

With a scream, he charged at them, throwing punches without a care for the bones breaking.

Blood seeped into my eye, making it hard to see, but I charged forward anyway. When a fist came flying, I blocked it with my face and returned the blow with my own fist.

And then, after being kicked once more and falling flat on the pavement, the stones rolling around nearby suddenly stood out to him in a strangely conspicuous way.

Though it was a distance I couldn't reach, I desperately stretched out my hand.

Then, a stone from afar rolled over on its own and landed in my hand.

I swung the stone once more at the charging figures. For the first time, it was not me, but something from the other side that shattered with a resounding crack.

 Joyful!

This misfortune, this pain, this desolation is not just mine, but equally applies to the other person—how utterly delightful!

Yeah, you need to know this too. You need to feel once what kind of fucked-up life I'm living.

There's a saying, "Walk a mile in someone else's shoes," right? Let's try experiencing it from a different perspective!

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

"Ugh... Someone... Catch this little bastard......"

Striking the stone, breaking it, striking it, breaking it, striking it, breaking it, striking it, breaking it, striking it, breaking it.

Even when there was nothing left to break, he just kept wildly swinging the stone. When the stone finally couldn't take it and shattered, he swung his fist, broken fingers and all.

 How much time had passed like that?

I stood firm, having turned the four muscular men who had sought to reduce me to a pulp into a pulp themselves.

Never having been the ultimate victor before, I trembled all over with an overwhelming sense of exhilaration and pleasure.

I've never tried drugs, but maybe this is what it feels like?

The smell of blood and flesh scattered on the pavement felt fresher than the bathroom air freshener.

I am now, for the first time in my life, grateful for being alive!

 ...Giggle.